Hero Rising. Shane Hegarty

should brush dogs before washing them,” repeated Finn. “It makes it easier to comb them afterwards.”

      At another time in his life, Finn had wanted to be a vet instead of a Legend Hunter. It wasn’t that he’d given up on that dream; it was just that for a while now he’d had no choice.

      Silently, Hugo seemed to accept the advice and began to calmly untangle the comb from the dog’s coat, as if he’d had his rant and let off the required steam.

      Hugo’s boss, Mr Green, passed behind and, without stopping, without even looking at Hugo, said, “You should have had that labradoodle polished up and out by now, Hugo. You’ve two cats to primp and a guinea-pig haircut to do, all before mid-morning break.”

      This kicked Hugo back into grumpiness and he pulled a little hard on the comb, causing the poor dog to yelp again.

      “And next time you should brush the dog before you wash it,” said Mr Green, disappearing into the front of the shop.

      “I was in school with that jumped-up fool,” Hugo murmured so that only Finn could hear. “He never liked me. He’s loving every minute of this. The second I’m done with this job, I’m going to give him a soaking so strong it’ll shrink him to a size no bigger than this dog’s—”

      He stopped, glancing at Finn.

      “We could have done with you out there this morning,” Finn said. “We could do with you out there every time this happens.”

      “I know that,” his father hissed. “I want to be out there, not here, up to my elbows in dog fleas. But without access to our own house, this is the only way we can get enough of the chemicals to make our own Desiccator fluid. Without this, when an invasion happens again – and it will happen – we’ll be fighting off Legends with nothing but guinea-pig hair clips. I just wish the right combination of chemicals could be found in, I don’t know, the ice cream shop or somewhere. Not here, with these poodledors—”

      “Labradoodles,” Finn corrected him.

      “Whatever they’re called,” said Hugo, pulling at the dog’s coat. “Either way, these things have … Too … Many … Curls.”

      The dog whimpered, but was finally free of the combing. Hugo let it down off the table to scamper to a basket and chew on a rubber bone.

      Mr Green appeared once more in the washing area, again passing by without stopping. “A rabbit’s done its business on the shop counter,” he said. “Wipe it up before you move on to Killer.”

      “Killer?” asked Hugo.

      “The guinea pig.”

      Hugo looked like he might swing a fist, or maybe an entire labradoodle, at his boss.

      “But we had better get Darkmouth back soon,” Hugo said. “If I have to wash another mutt’s you-know-what, I’ll go insane. More insane than I am now anyway.”

      Finn knew his father had sacrificed many things over the years in order to fulfil his duty as a Legend Hunter. He’d never holidayed. He’d never been able to relax during a rainstorm. He’d never stopped training, thinking, planning, day and night and next day again. But this seemed to be the greatest sacrifice of all. Swapping his dignity for a couple of bottles of doggy shampoo.

      Hugo looked around to make sure Mr Green had gone, then pulled six small plastic bottles from under the table and pressed them into Finn’s schoolbag.

      “That’s a couple of litres of Shampoodle,” he said. He then reached across for a box from the shelf. “And one packet of Fabulous Fish Fin Formula. They’ll shrink a jumbo jet when mixed right. Just don’t be seen leaving with them or I’ll lose my job.”

      Hugo took a moment to contemplate that possibility, knowing being sacked would be a sweet release from the doggy drudgery.

      “No,” he said. “I can’t think about losing my job. I must plough on. It’s the only way for now.”

      “You keep saying that, Dad, but what’s changing?” said Finn, grabbing a towel and laying it over the labradoodle’s sodden back. “Nothing. It’s getting worse out there and you’re stuck in here.”

      “Listen to me, Finn,” Hugo said. “Do you think I want to be here? Do you think my only plan is spending my life with pets whose toenails are out of control?”

      “Then what is your plan?” Finn asked, frustration building. “Because I don’t see it.”

      “I have it under control, Finn. You just need to be patient.”

      “And while we wait,” Finn said, “we’re crammed into a small house, waiting for disaster, knowing they’re scheming something but we just can’t see what yet.” He was getting properly angry now.

      His father stopped towelling the dog. “Please just go to school, play football, do whatever, but I need you to let me deal with this in case things really do get out of control.”

      Mr Green shouted from outside the room, “Hugo! Rabbit poo! Now!”

      Hugo gritted his teeth. Took a long, calming breath. “You need to understand, Finn,” he said before leaving. “The most effective way to grab victory is to first look like you’ve lost everything.”

      “That makes no sense,” Finn muttered, alone now.

      The labradoodle sneezed, covering Finn in flecks of water.

      Wiping himself down, Finn stepped into the salty Darkmouth air. Things were definitely as bleak as they’d ever been. He could sense it. It was as if the world itself had darkened. Then Finn realised that it had. While he’d been in with his dad, a low, heavy cloud had dragged itself across the sky. The bright, cloudless blue of the day had given way to a near twilight.

      A drop of rain splashed on to Finn’s shoulder. He put his hand out and caught two more.

      It wasn’t supposed to rain today.

      The rain fell heavier, stinging drops hopping off his head, bouncing off the road around him.

      Rain meant Legends, breaking through.

      Finn looked up, took a raindrop in the eye. He wiped it away, and when he did he realised that the ground around him was being lit by a growing golden glow.

      Finn felt a tiny prick in his neck, like he’d been stung, smacked at his skin as he swung around to meet the chest of someone. Something. He looked up, saw an eye staring at him. One eye. No more.

      “Sorry, kid,” the Legend said, voice deeper than hell. “You’re coming with us.”

      

      The gateway opened for a few seconds.

      About three minutes later, four panting assistants finally arrived at the scene, carrying Desiccators awkwardly. They’d been delayed by an argument about which alley to run down. Half of them had said they should go right. Half said they should go left. They ended up going straight ahead which, by sheer luck, was exactly where they should have gone in the first place.

      They burst into the dead end near the back of Woofy Wash, where the gateway had torn its way into our world.

      But there was no gateway.

      There were no Legends.

      Even the rain had gone, stopping so suddenly it was as if someone had turned off the shower tap.

      The assistants looked at each other with some bemusement.

      “There’s nothing here,” said one of them.

      “I told you we should have gone right,”